Modern Girls and Old-Fashioned Qunari
by Sue Donym
Summary: Modern AU. Marian Hawke, businesswoman by day, protector of Kirkwall by night. The Arishok... still the Arishok.
1. Chapter 1

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this," Fenris muttered darkly as he lent his hand to aid Hawke in exiting the town car. Hawke smoothed down the front of her black cocktail dress and discreetly tugged down the hemline.

"Oh, come now, Fenris, let's be honest: I can talk you into doing _nearly _anything," Hawke replied saucily to her friend. "Besides, as my dearest friend, it is your solemn duty to accompany me to dull affairs such as this one, if only to give me something to look at." She swept her eyes up and down the elf's formal wear-clad figure. It had been an inspired choice on her part to select a suit in monochromatic black and charcoal, rather than the traditional black-and-white tuxedo. It was impeccable tailored to fit Fenris's lean but muscular form and also satisfied the elf's preference for darker tones. "One of my very best investments, I have to say," she said approvingly.

Pulling her hand into the crook of his elbow, Fenris shook his head as they began the short climb up the stairs to the entrance of The Keep. All around them, the well-to-do of Kirkwall sparkled in their finery. There was a line at the door where the party-goers were waiting to pass through security and here Hawke and Fenris took their place.

"I am a grown man, one fully capable of dressing himself, not a doll for you to dress up when the whim strikes you," he said.

Airily, Hawke retorted, "I don't see why those two things have to be mutually exclusive." She paused nonchalantly. "You might be glad to be looking your best tonight when I tell you that a certain roguish Starkhaven businessman will be here tonight." Her eyes took in the brightly-colored sights around them, landing anywhere and everywhere but on her companion.

Fenris closed his eyes briefly. He _knew_ there had been some other motivation behind Hawke's fussiness over his appearance earlier this evening, beyond her laughing assertion that his role was simply to be her, quote-unquote, eye-candy for the night.

"Hawke, you meddlesome creature, you _will_ stay out of my… relationship… with Sebastian. Knowing you, whatever you try to do to 'help' me will end up making the situation, at best, unbearable and, at worst… well, there might be corpses at the end of it, somehow."

Saved from having to dignify that with a response by their having reached the front of the line, Hawke showed her invitation to the security officer sitting at entrance to The Keep.

"Marian Hawke, plus one."

The guard searched on his list for her name and after finding it, glanced up at her face to compare it to the picture next to her name. Satisfied, he nodded Hawke and Fenris over to the metal detector to be searched.

Hawke and Fenris glanced at each other sardonically as the guard swept his security wand up and down both sides of their bodies. Fenris's subcutaneous lyrium implants, now highly illegal after the Thedas-wide ban came down from the United Nations ten years back, were completely undetectable by the majority of security scans unless they were activated. Fenris was a deadly weapon in his own right.

Hawke, ever the dutiful citizen, made a small noise in her throat to catch the attention of the guard. As he made eye contact with her, she motioned subtly to the tracker embedded just under the thin skin on the underside of her forearm. The guard took a small handheld device from his belt and passed it over the tracker.

_Scanning…. scanning…_

_REGISTRANT FOUND_

_NAME: MARIAN HAWKE_

_SPECIALIZATION: FORCE_

_REGISTRATION: CURRENT_

_VIOLATIONS: NONE_

_TEMPLAR OFFICER: CULLEN_

Deemed appropriately harmless, Hawke and Fenris made their way into The Keep.

Hawke remarked as her eyes roved the length of the castle, "I haven't been in here since the renovations were completed."

"Our tax dollars at work. Well, yours, at any rate, they got fuck-all from me for this waste of space," Fenris smirked. He was not on any tax rolls, of course; being a deserter from the Imperial Army and hunted by an insanely obsessive magister-general did not allow him to participate fully in his civic duty.

"Skyrocketing crime and unemployment, refugees from the Imperium sweeping across the border now that the Qunari have won the war, extremist groups committing terrorist acts across Thedas—mere trifles! Slap a coat of paint on the old girl and let's have a party!" Hawke shook her head. "I love this city."

Fenris made no reply; he didn't have to. They'd solved the problems of this city countless times over a glass or four of wine. Hawke and Fenris, along with a small group of differently skilled… associates, actually did their part to combat the seemingly endless tide of corruption and violence in Kirkwall. But tonight was not the night for that; tonight was the night for blending in with high society, pretending as if the two of them were not wolves in the midst of a pack of primped poodles.

As the couple strolled through the crowd, Hawke nodded and smiled to various acquaintances as she caught their eyes. Leandra Hawke, stricken at the last moment with a rather indiscreet stomach ailment and thus unable to make it to the gala, had pleaded with her reluctant daughter to _be polite_ and "for Andraste's sake, try _not_ to, for example, get the prime minister's son arrested for under-aged drinking in a gay bar." Hawke believed more than enough time had passed for her mother to move beyond that little escapade. How had she been expected to know that Seamus would use a fake identification to get into the bar? He'd assured her he was of legal age and she'd only been doing her best to get the poor lad to have some fun without being under the thumb of his controlling father, Prime Minister Dumar.

Her eyes suddenly seized upon a welcome sight—Sebastian Vael, hovering by the bar with a champagne glass. Pulling Fenris steadily and surely in Sebastian's direction, she said coyly, "Why, look who's there."

Far too brave and manly to actually drag his heels, the stiffening of his arm muscles under Hawke's firm grip communicated his discomfort. Fenris muttered, "Yes, please, let's dive headlong into my personal torment _right away_."

Hawke whispered, "I love you, Fenris, but honestly, if some benevolent force had allowed me to be present the night you two finally got together and then witness you _leaving _that delicious-looking man afterwards? I would have had to slap some sense into you myself."

She greeted Sebastian as they approached the bar. The tall, auburn-haired man was wearing a traditional tuxedo with white-and-gold cufflinks sparkling at his wrists. "Sebastian, you'll have to tell me what it's like to always be the prettiest one in the room." Hawke stretched up a bit to plant a kiss on his cheek.

His blue eyes twinkling, Sebastian replied gallantly in his most buttery Starkhaven brogue, "Never could I hold that title once you have walked into the room, lovely girl." Shifting his eyes to Fenris, his gaze warmed ever-so gently. "And surely our mutual friend deserves some recognition as well. Fenris, you look…very well."

Fenris's blazing green eyes met Sebastian's. Quietly, "Thank you. It is… good to see you." The tension was thick between them. Hawke looked speculatively back and forth between them. She decided to rescue her friend from his inner turmoil.

"So," she said brightly, "Sebastian, have you met this esteemed Qunari leader that has everyone all atwitter?" She scanned the crowd as she asked.

"Not yet, but I'd planned to. He's stationed over but I haven't caught sight of him yet." He gestured vaguely toward the grand staircase, where Hawke could only make out that the crowd was somewhat thicker. "I was waiting for a lull in the crowd before making my way over there."

"I shall accompany you. Now that the sanctions are no longer in effect, we'll both be in business with the Qunari now that Minrathous is under their control. That's the second largest port of entry in the north."

The Unites States of the Free Marches had imposed economic sanctions on the Imperium over twenty years ago when the once-powerful nation was in its death throes. Desperation to withstand the overwhelming force of the Qunari _antaam_ had led to some truly heinous human rights violations, especially toward the large number of conscripted soldiers in its army. It remained to be seen what kind of business partners the Qunari would be. Amell Industries and Vael Enterprises would both greatly benefit from an open and free port in Minrathous.

Setting his champagne glass on the bar, Sebastian said, "Let's head in that direction then. I find myself curious to meet this Arishok. Fenris, will you join us?"

Fenris shrugged. "As you wish. Hawke, the Qunari can be somewhat… rigid in their manner. Could you please try to avoid doing or saying anything that might shatter the fragile peace we find ourselves in?"

Hawke sniffed indignantly. "Honestly, between you and Mother, I'm starting to get the impression that my loved ones think of me as some kind of incorrigible troublemaker."

Sebastian and Fenris glanced at each other wryly. Sebastian offered gently, "It's not so much that you _make_ the trouble, Hawke, it's just that trouble tends to… happen… frequently. In your general vicinity."

With a mildly irritated huff of breath, she replied, "Oh, very well. If it will put your respective minds at ease, I'll shut up and let Sebastian do the talking. Will that suffice? Let's get on with it then."

The trio set off in the direction of the crowd surrounding the Arishok. As they neared, Hawke could just make out several sets of Qunari horns above the teeming mass of Kirkwall's elite class that were milling about, clearly all curious about the Qunari leader. Hawke made her way through the crowd, nodding and smiling vaguely to people she recognized. Then, as she came to a more open area, she set eyes on the Arishok for the first time.

She was reminded of stories her father used to tell her of the Dragon Age, when battles were fought with swords, battle-axes, and other shining implements of death. The men before her were warriors and clearly there was no other way to describe them. The Arishok and his men were dressed in what had to be the Qunari version of a dress uniform—form-fitting gray pants, charcoal boots, and dark-colored leather cuirass with red markings. As a signal of his high rank, the Arishok had a sleeveless floor-length robe made of leather with more red and gold designs emblazoned on it. His massive horns were bedecked in gold rings and a trio of golden rings decorated each of his pointed ears.

Hawke thought the Arishok looked as out of place at this opulent and self-indulgent gathering as those warriors of old would have. His horns and pointed ears lent him an almost bestial look but, as her eyes gave him a thorough up-down, to her he seemed be the perfect example of the male form in one massive, intimidating figure.

Her skin tingled warmly and her stomach flip-flopped in unmistakable signs of physical attraction.

"Fenris and Sebastian are going to be so pissed at me," she thought ruefully.


	2. Chapter 2

A young female elf with a chic chin-length red hair was standing off to the side of where the Arishok was standing with his guardsmen. She looked at the trio of friends with an open expression of welcome in her eyes.

"_Shanedan_! Are you here to meet with the Arishok?" she asked.

Fenris, Sebastian, and Hawke exchanged glances.

Hawke asked uncertainly, "Yes, I suppose we are. Is that... I mean, do we need to have an appointment, or something?"

The elf smiled. "No, not at all. He's here tonight for this purpose, to meet with the citizens of Kirkwall. I'm Tallis, the Arishok's public liaison. May I have your names, please, and the reason for your meeting tonight?" They gave Tallis their names and cited business introduction as their reason for the meeting. Seemed better than "burning curiosity" or, now in Hawke's case, "hormones." Tallis quickly noted the information, using her agile finger on the touch screen of her OmniPad.

"Once he finishes with Mr. Javaris, it will be your turn. If you are comfortable using Qunlat, you can greet him: '_Shanedan_, Arishok.' If not, you can greet him as you wish in Common. Do you have any questions?" Tallis asked brightly.

Hawke had dozens of questions, she was sure, but none of them came to her racing mind at the moment. Well, one question did, but she didn't think that it would be appropriate to ask the "public liaison" if the Arishok could be bathed and brought to her chamber later.

The sound of a firm "NO" being pronounced in a deep baritone whipped Hawke's attention back to the present. Two Qunari guardsman took the dwarf that had been speaking with the Arishok firmly by his elbows and manhandled him away from their leader.

The dwarf continued craning his neck to face the Arishok, "Gaatlok is a product, Arishok, a product! People want it! I broke my beard putting this business proposal together!"

The din from the crowd was noticeably less as everyone in the area gawked at the dwarf being forcefully ejected from the party.

Hawke and her friends made eye contact with Tallis and for a minute, the elf clearly had no idea what to say to cover the awkward situation but she recovered quickly enough.

"Okay, well, looks like your party is next. _Panahedan_." Tallis made an upward-palm motion of her hand to usher them forward.

"Perfect," Sebastian remarked, sotto voce, "I'm sure he's in a congenial mood now."

Hawke was in the middle of her two friends as they came to a stop in from of the giant Qunari. Again, Hawke was struck with the feeling of otherworldliness, as if she should be in armor, instead of a dress from Jean Luc's latest collection. There should be… banners, and a throne, and some kind of distant drumming in the background. She could feel a potent mix of anxiety, anticipation, and that damned thrum of sexual awareness roiling inside of her.

To her surprise, Fenris spoke first. "_Arishokost. Maaras shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." _

Hawke and Sebastian glanced what-the-fuckingly at each other. She knew her friend always played his hand close to the chest, but it would have been somewhat useful to know that he spoke sodding Qunlat _before _meeting with the Arishok.

That deep voice rumbled out of the Arishok's mouth again. "I had not thought to hear the Qun from an elf in… this place." The last part was said with a sneer, not that it showed on the Arishok's impassive face, but Hawke could detect a sneer nonetheless.

Sebastian said respectfully, with quiet confidence, "_Shanedan_, Arishok. I am Sebastian Vael, CEO, Vael Enterprises. This is Marian Hawke, COO, Amell Industries. We came to introduce ourselves and hopefully communicate with you our desire for a mutually beneficial trade relationship between our companies and the new regime in Tevinter."

It was impossible to decipher from the Arishok's face any emotion whatsoever. "Trading relationships are under the auspices of the Arigena; I will relay your information to her." He nodded at Tallis, who in turn tapped furiously on her OmniPad.

And that was all.

Hawke racked her brain for something to say to the horned giant. The rumble of his voice vibrated over her skin and right down her spine. Maker, she couldn't even recollect the last time she'd been so strongly, so instantly, affected by a man who was doing nothing more than _standing there_, only marginally aware of her presence, she was sure.

Before she could stop herself, the desperation to speak to him prompted her to say, "Have you enjoyed your stay in Kirkwall so far, Arishok?" Mentally cringing even as the clichéd words left her mouth, she stopped breathing as the Arishok's golden eyes shifted to look at her appraisingly.

"I find your city to be foul in every aspect."

His answer drew a short bark of laughter from Hawke before she could restrain herself. Fenris let out a quiet, pained groan and from somewhere behind them, she heard Tallis pointedly clear her throat. Being the public liaison for the Arishok must be an unending trial if he answers questions so bluntly all the time.

"This amuses you," the Arishok observed.

"Your answer was unexpected, but I can't say I disagree with you, Arishok. It's just that you don't often hear such an opinion stated so….unequivocally, especially in this crowd." A small smile was still on her lips as she gestured around her.

"The Qunari do not rely on _equivocation_ and artifice as your kind does. The _basra_ of this city focus on amassing material wealth and gratifying their base desires without restraint. It is the very antithesis of what the Qun teaches."

Tallis cleared her throat again, clearly trying to catch the attention of her leader. Was the Arishok being, perhaps, a little more blunt that his elven assistant would prefer?

His eyes shot to the elf. "See to your affliction, or cease this noise."

Tallis remained quiet at the rebuke.

He turned his attention back to Hawke, who, by now, was quite entertained by the Arishok's unfettered disdain for her city.

"I agree, Arishok, Kirkwall is a mess. I dare say I have some idea of what your suggested remedy might be." She was baiting him, she knew, and Fenris and Sebastian were likely planning her imminent ass-kicking as soon as they were alone.

The Arishok took one step forward, crossed his arms, and his eyes searched her face appraisingly.

He spoke then, in the same even tone before, "The only remedy for the hateful imbalance of this place is in the Qun. Perhaps you will see this for yourself one day, Marian Hawke."


	3. Chapter 3

The nights were cold enough now that Hawke could see her breath as she exhaled but her Fereldan blood refused to allow her to label the temperature as anything more than "brisk." Clad in only thin leggings, sports bra, and tank top, Hawke felt invigorated as she ran along the trail. Wounded Coast Park was deserted at this time of the day and it was her favorite time to go running, especially after a shitty day at work.

Percy was accompanying her on her run, as usual, his small legs a blur as he did his best to keep up. The miniature Mabari didn't have the massive frame of his canine ancestors but he more than matched them in spirit and vigor.

Hawke looked out on the water, glistening with moonlight. Her mind wandered back to the night of the gala at The Keep when she had met with the Arishok. She was finding it something of a common occurrence for her thoughts to drift in that direction, whether she was in the midst of yet another dull meeting at work, or like now, when she was alone with nothing else to occupy her mind. He had certainly made an impression on her; her vibrator, showerhead, even her pillow were paying the price. From the day when she had discovered how to bring herself off, back when she was twelve or so and her very best friend had been her old, stuffed bronto with the rubber horn pointed _just right_, her sexual fantasies had featured roles for a wide range of friends, acquaintances, and total strangers. The past week had seen a drastic shift to monogamy as the Qunari leader was the male lead in every single sexual scenario that her mind had come up with.

As her sneakered feet pounded along the sand, Hawke found herself hoping that a good, long run would exhaust her enough so that she could fall into bed and simply sleep. With the moon as the only source of light, her eyes distracted by the dark water, and a particularly loud song blaring through her ear buds, it was perhaps somewhat unsurprising that she didn't see the large kossith standing cross-armed in her path until she nearly collided with him.

Hawke skidded to a sharp halt, heart pounding in her chest. She yanked her ear buds out of her ears. Percy was barking furiously at the horned giant, who paid the little dog no more attention than he would a bothersome gnat.

"Holy SHIT, you scared me!" She leaned over and put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath enough to not feel like she was about to have a coronary.

"You're lucky I didn't mind blast you right into the blighted ocean! What are you doing standing in the middle of the path?" she asked the Qunari male. He was a dressed in a simpler version of the armor she'd seen on the Arishok's guards at the party but looked quite imposing, especially at this close vantage point.

Before he could reply, a deep, familiar voice rumbled in her direction from a higher point on the twisting path.

"My _karashok _made several attempts to gain your attention, Marian Hawke. You should be more aware of your surroundings." Perched on the flat, gently sloping side of a huge boulder, with his knees drawn up and powerful arms crossed on top of them, was the Arishok.

Hawke shook her head ever so slightly and blinked her eyes rapidly, almost believing for a moment that she had somehow summoned the man magically. How in the world she had almost run smack-dab into the Arishok and his small group of men in the middle of Wounded Coast Park, she would never know.

Suddenly aware of her casual running attire and messy knot of hair, Hawke straightened her posture and gave the Arishok a quick nod. "_Shanedan_, Arishok. I hadn't thought to, er, run into you again." She gave a wry smile. Gesturing to the deserted park around them, "So…. come here often?"

Honestly, she wouldn't mind _at all_ if the filter between her brain and her mouth would at least _sometimes_ catch the awkward phrases that tended to tumble out of the hole in her face.

The Arishok's gold-colored eyes shifted slightly. Hawke wouldn't swear to it in court, but she would almost say he gave her scantily-clad body the "up-down," as Izzy called it. Imagined or not, she felt a frisson of awareness in her stomach.

Words rumbled from his mouth. "This is the only place I have found in your wretched city where my lungs need not strain to breathe the putrid air." He looked out at the dark water. If it any been any other person, Hawke would say there was longing in his face, yet his features had changed not a whit. "The salted scent of the ocean reminds me of—"

The words cut off abruptly.

"Par Vollen?" Hawke offered softly.

Those golden eyes burned into hers again. "Yes."

She forced herself to look in the direction of the water before she found herself staring at him lustfully. "Your duties as Arishok must take you away from your home more than you'd like." She stayed quiet for a beat, then steeled herself to train her gaze in his direction again. "What else will you do here now that you've had your meet-and-greet with Kirkwall high society?"

With just a slight downward turn of those surprisingly supple lips, displeasure suddenly radiated from his countenance. "I go where the Qun demands; my personal preferences do not enter into it." Despite this dispassionate statement, his large hands, dark-colored talons decorating the ends of each finger, flexed in frustration. "There is one more task that I must see to before I can return to Par Vollen. Until it is completed, I must remain."

Hawke waited for some greater explanation but she was quickly realizing that the Arishok wasn't one to prattle. She was actually somewhat surprised he'd shared as much as he had. It was embarrassing how even a short encounter with this man set her heart racing.

An idea came to her addled brain. Would he allow her…? Using her thumb to scroll through the song library in her OmniPhone, she selected a song that she had downloaded from the Extranet only a few nights back.

She unwrapped her ear buds from around her neck and moved to approach the boulder where the Arishok lounged. The sounds of several Qunari guards putting their hands to their sidearms and shifting in her direction stopped her.

Putting her hands in the air, OmniPhone and ear buds clutched in one, Hawke said, "Wow. Sorry, guys, just want to show the big guy something. I won't bite." Whether the guardsmen understood Common or not, she didn't know, but a slight head motion from the Arishok had them standing down. Hawke took this as tacit approval to come forward. At the base of the boulder, she gestured to the space next to him. "May I…?"

The Arishok narrowed his eyes appraisingly, then, to her surprise, jerked his chin to indicate she was welcome. Hawke couldn't help it; her face broke into a wide smile. She scampered up the large rock and plopped down next to the horned man. In the cold—brisk!—night air, heat seemed to roll off his body and it seemed very…intimate that she should be sharing body heat with this man.

Momentarily distracted by Arishok-induced warm fuzzies, she suddenly remembered what she had come up here for. Holding out her ear buds to him, she said, "I have a little piece of home for you. Here, take them."

The Arishok eyed the ear buds suspiciously but after a just-this-side-of-awkward length of time, he reached out and plucked them from Hawke's hand with his giant fingers. She gestured to his ears and waited for him to place them in his ears, which he did. She smiled again. He was fucking adorable. "I hope you like this one," she said, "I don't know shit about Qunari music but I downloaded this the other night and well… here." She pressed play before she could babble any more.

Hawke could tell when the song started because the Arishok's eyes widened ever so slightly and swiftly met hers. Close as she was sitting to him, she could hear the soft strains of a female voice echoing from the earbuds. The Arishok spoke, the volume of his voice slightly louder. "This is _Chantaara_. She sings passages of the Qun." Hawke smiled softly. He seemed pleased. She didn't know how she could tell exactly but he seemed… pleased. Drawing her knees up and resting her arms on them, unconsciously mirroring the Arishok's posture, she felt that maybe she would be content to sit there all night while he listened to music from his homeland by her side.

All too soon, however, she heard the muffled sound of the music cease. The Arishok took the buds from his ears and handed them back to her. He said nothing and Hawke felt no need to break the quiet.

A soft exhalation of breath exited his mouth. "I have not had the opportunity to hear music from Par Vollen in… it has been too long." Still not looking at her, he asked, "It is an unusual song to be part of your collection, is it not? I do not think that many _bas_ would have the works of a _chantaara_ in their device."

"_Bas?" _she queried_._

_"_Those who are not of the Qun," he replied curtly.

Hawke shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not. I stay up late and I have a fast extranet connection. You'd be surprised at the variety of songs I have on here." She side-eyed the giant man next to her. "You should ask your elf girl—Tallis?—to get you one of these here new-fangled devices. There are all kinds of Qun-related goodies on the extranet, enough to satisfy even the most discerning Arishok, I'm sure." She winked at him. Maker, she just couldn't help herself, irrepressible flirt that she was.

Glancing at the time on her phone, she grimaced. "I should get going. It's really, _really_ past my bedtime now." Hawke shimmied down from her perch and stood uncertainly for a second, shifting her feet. Sensing his mistress was getting ready to leave, Percy hopped up from where he'd been snoozing to stand alertly at her feet.

She hung her ear buds around her neck again, clipped her phone to her waistband, then looked up at the Arishok a bit shyly. "Maybe I'll… see you again sometime?"

His eyes had followed her every movement as she readied herself to leave. He said only, "If it is to be, it will be."

She smiled and turned away but his deep voice stopped her.

"Thank you for..." and he gestured to her phone. "It was… an unexpected diversion."

She grinned and made a short bow, ridiculous though it might have looked in running gear. "My pleasure. _Panahedan_, Arishok." Looking down at Percy, she said, "C'mon, Perse, let's go home."

Hawke took off in the direction she had come from; it was far too late to continue her usual run now. She held out as long as she could before her impulse to look back at the Arishok overwhelmed her. She quickly glanced over her shoulder. Yes, he was definitely watching her go.

She could be wrong, of course, but she just had this undeniable feeling that the Arishok was checking out her ass.


	4. Chapter 4

A dented black pick-up with its headlights off slowly rolled up to the curb across the street from the seemingly abandoned warehouse. The driver put it in park, then turned to her companion and said, "I don't know why you won't drop this, Varric. I wouldn't have told you if I'd know I was going to face an interrogation."

Varric shook his head in mild disbelief and then raised the pitch of his voice in an almost-passable impression of Hawke's plucky Fereldan accent. "I just happened to run into the leader of the Qunari military on a moonlit beach and flirted mildly as we swapped playlists. How was your evening, Varric? Tee-hee-hee!" Hawke groaned at the dwarf's high-pitched giggle and fluttering eyelashes. His voice dropped back into his normal husky tone. "C'mon, Hawke, give me something more. You're not usually so close-lipped!"

Fenris, relegated to the back seat for this outing, piped up. "I, for one, wish to hear no more about it. My mind is still reeling from the shock of Hawke having stumbled upon one of the most influential military leaders in all of Thedas and _not_ having somehow goaded the man into declaring war on the Free Marshes. I am adrift in a sea of confusion."

Shaking her head, Hawke exited the vehicle, her companions doing the same. There was a moment of silence as each of them readied themselves for the coming confrontation. Hawke made a minor adjustment to the straps of the amps on each of her forearms. Isabela had modded the amps so that even if she expended a high enough level of mana to be deemed an Offensive Use of Magic—which she most certainly would be this evening—the tracker embedded in her arm would relay none of that information to her Templar officer, thus preventing a visit from an angry Cullen. To her side, Fenris loaded his assault rifle while Varric whispered sweet-nothings to Bianca as he lifted his favorite M-5 Viper sniper rifle from her immaculate case.

In a strident whisper, Hawke hissed, "I think this is not the best time to discuss this, gentlemen. Perhaps after we finish our business here, we can all go back to my place, get in our jammies and talk about boys while we braid each other's hair? Whadaya say?" She gave them both A Look then turned to the warehouse on the opposite of the street.

As they walked, Fenris muttered, "I didn't want to talk about it _at all_, I don't know why you directed that to me." He received another look from Hawke for that remark.

Though it looked deserted at this time of night, the warehouse was actually the base for a group of criminals that had been committing a series of armed bank robberies throughout Kirkwall over the last three months. Hawke and her associates did not normally bother themselves with bank robbers but the group had grown increasingly bold and violent in the manner of its operations. Three days ago, a bank security officer and two hostages had been killed during the heist. The group had caught her attention with that little snafu; within 48 hours, Hawke's contacts had found the location of their hideout and the last 24 hours had seen the planning of tonight's escapade.

Glancing at the time display on her amp, she motioned to her small team to follow her. Aveline was expecting her call in 15 minutes, which left them just enough time to get in, subdue the gang of six criminals, then get out before the Kirkwall Police Department arrived on scene.

They reached the back entrance to the warehouse. Hawke and Fenris stood at each side of the door, scanning the area with vigilant eyes, while Varric worked his particular kind of magic on the lock. At his nod, Hawke silently opened the door. She could hear the faint sound of voices echoing from the front of the warehouse. She nodded at her two companions and stepped inside with the white-haired elf and her dwarven sniper close behind.

* * *

Back in the driver's seat of her truck, Hawke leaned against the steering wheel with a satisfied smirk on her face, as she watched the gang of bank robbers being manhandled into the back of a police van. Five of them would get to go directly to the station, while one would be making a stop at Kirkwall General first. That unfortunate fellow had been taking a leak while Hawke and her team had made quick work of restraining his compatriots. From his ranged position, Varric's sharp eyes had seen the shaggy-haired criminal creeping up behind Hawke as she was zip-tying another man's hands behind his back. A sharp crack sounded from Bianca and Shaggy had fallen to the floor behind Hawke, grabbing his blown-out kneecap in agony.

Hawke's phone vibrated at her waist. She unclipped it, glanced at the caller ID and answered with, "Aveline, my sweet, Varric, Fenris, and I have decided that we will be accepting your gratitude in the form of copious amounts of alcohol purchased for us at the Hanged Man tomorrow evening. I'm assuming you'll be done with your paperwork by then?"

She listened to the police captain's reply and smiled. "No, none of that blood was ours. We are unscathed. Just very, very thirsty." She paused again to listen. "Very good, tomorrow. See you then." Hawke replaced her phone in its holster on her belt.

Turning to Varric and Fenris, she said cheerily, "Aveline sends her warmest regards and thanks us for a job well done. As usual, we accomplished in three days what would have taken Kirkwall's finest another three weeks to get around to. I swear, that poor woman will die buried under reams of paperwork and red tape. She'll be meeting us for a round at The Hanged Man tomorrow."

Varric slumped back in the passenger seat, with what might be deemed a pout on a face less manly. "Hawke, that was almost too easy. Bianca's been complaining that I hardly ever take her any place fun anymore. Since that last time we cleaned out a Carta hide-out, it's been nothing but small-time losers like these dipshits tonight."

Fenris leaned forward and draped his muscled arms along the top of the front seat. "Dwarf, you are aware that by uttering those words you've now assured that our next job will be a study in blood, tears, and fuck-ups?"

"Yes, way to jinx us, Varric," Hawke agreed sarcastically. "How about you try to sweet-talk your lady into being satisfied with having blown off someone's knee cap tonight?"

Varric grumbled, "Fine, fine."

Hawke's phone vibrated again. She unclipped it once more and glanced at the text message on the screen. "Huh," she grunted bemusedly after reading it.

"Aveline again?" Varric wondered out loud.

"No," Hawke murmured. She glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye. "The Arishok's assistant, Tallis. The Arishok wants to see me at the embassy tomorrow." She looked out the driver's side window and waited for the reaction.

There was a loud silence from her friends.

Unable to restrain himself further, Varric exploded, "Okay, NOW can we talk about it?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, readers. I'm surprised to see people actually reading this little fic 'o mine. Arishok/Hawke is such a rare pairing. Thank you for your reviews!**

**To the anon reviewer: yes, I include a little Mass Effect tech terminology. Varric's M-5 Viper was, in my imagination, an earlier model from the ones we get in ME.**

**Grammar notes: I haven't been able to find out how to properly pluralize Qunari words. It looked strange to add an 's'. So, I've left them as they are: one karashok, two karashok, same diff. **

**General notes: I'm trying to keep the Arishok as in-character as possible. At the same time, I've always figured that a modern Arishok would be a touch...looser? Not a softie by any stretch but you know what I mean, hopefully. My Hawke's kind of a pushy broad so he has to be able to put up with her otherwise there'd be no story.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Marian Hawke was not a woman of nervous disposition, by any stretch of the imagination. Fleeting moments of anxiety could always be camouflaged by a well-timed quip or an insouciant smile. So if one were to inquire as to why her stylishly shod foot was bouncing repetitively at the end of her tightly crossed legs, or why her teeth seemed to be nibbling on her lower lip, well… the last thing Marian Hawke would ever admit to was being _nervous_ about meeting with the Arishok at the embassy.

Yet, as Bodahn, the Amell family's driver, slowly wheeled the town car through the gated entrance, following the guard's instruction on where to park, Hawke's foot did bounce and her teeth did nibble. Perhaps if she had some inkling as to why the Arishok had summoned her, she wouldn't feel so… tense. Hawke wasn't the type who needed to know all the information before she got involved in something but damned if _any _information would be better than what she had now, which was zilch. When Hawke had called Tallis to confirm the time for today's appointment, she'd been able to glean very little information from the elven girl. Hawke didn't know if that was because Tallis didn't actually know anything or whether her boss had instructed her to button her lip.

The town car pulled to a stop close to the main entrance to the embassy. Bodahn quickly exited the driver's seat and came around to open Hawke's door. As she got out of the car, a cool autumn breeze ruffled her hair and soothed the flushed skin of her face. It was a gorgeous morning in Kirkwall; even the Arishok would have to agree to that, Hawke imagined. The gentle flapping sound of the red and white flags emblazoned with the symbol of the Triumvirate drew her eyes. That noise, combined with the clicking of her heeled shoes on the concrete steps, were the only ones that accompanied her as she approached the entrance. Two impressively muscled and well-armed _karashok_ stood at the front door. One of them opened it for her and she murmured a quiet "thank you" as she passed through.

Hawke was not surprised to be met inside by Tallis. The elf was smartly dressed in a black skirt and blazer, with a touch-free ear piece in one pointed ear, OmniPad firmly in hand. Hawke had a strong suspicion that the shower might be the only place where the woman wasn't accompanied by her shiny handheld.

"_Shanedan_, Ms. Hawke! Such a pleasure to see you again," Tallis came toward her with a warm, welcoming smile.

In addition to an attractive and professional appearance, the red-haired elf had an open countenance and an easy manner that Hawke found very appealing. She could easily see how the young woman would be an asset to the impassive, stoic Qunari, should they wish to have dealings with non-Qunari races in a more diplomatic manner than they were generally known for.

Tallis efficiently ushered Hawke to the metal detector, which she passed through easily enough. As she gathered her purse from the bin on the other side of the x-ray scanner, a guard handed her what looked to be a set of metallic-looking bracelets. She looked questioningly at Tallis.

Tallis explained, "I do apologize for the inconvenience, Ms. Hawke, but all _bas saarebas _must wear a temporary _arvaarad_ device while on embassy grounds."

Hawke was getting a very bad feeling about this. "A _who_ must wear a _what_ now?"

Tallis swallowed noticeably and her smile dimmed somewhat. "Qunari law states that a non-Qunari mage must wear a magical restraint while on the— Ms. Hawke, wait!"

Hawke had thrown the device down and turned on her heel the moment Tallis had uttered "magical restraint." She strode toward the exit with a displeased twist of her lips and narrowing of her eyes. Her friends would instantly recognize the look as Hawke's Seriously Pissed Off look.

Tallis hurried after her, imploring Hawke to stop. Hawke stopped abruptly and turned to the now-frantic elf. "Listen, I'm glad your people don't chain your mages up and stitch their mouths closed anymore. I mean, really, _kudos_ to you on that scandalously _recent _development in mage civil rights. We've got our trackers, you've got your _arvaarad_ things, all to keep us big bad mages in line. I get it. But I'll be damned if I'm going to wear those shackles when I was _invited here_ personally by the Arishok. Tell your boss I'll be back when he can be a little more hospitable." The aggressive clicking of her shoes on the tiled floor echoed loudly as she left.

Hawke had not made it all the way to the car where a surprised-looking Bodahn was hurrying to open her door when Tallis' voice broke through the quiet of the morning. Hawke turned to see the harried assistant running down the steps as fast as her heeled feet could carry her.

Tallis panted, "Please, Ms. Hawke! You've been cleared to enter without the device! The Arishok insists that you stay." Hawke's eyes narrowed again at her wording. Tallis, seeing this, recovered smoothly enough. "Asks! He asks that you please stay."

Hawke snorted skeptically, "I'm sure you had it right the first time. I doubt the Arishok makes it his practice to 'ask' for anything." Tallis said nothing, just looked at Hawke with pleading eyes.

With a put-upon sigh, Hawke said, "Oh, very well. My curiosity seems to far outweigh my sense of magely outrage at the moment." She made a motion with her hand to indicate Tallis should lead the way.

With an audible sigh of relief, Tallis escorted her prickly charge back into the embassy.

* * *

As Hawke neared the double doors to the Arishok's office, the now-familiar flutter in her stomach and lower areas resurrected itself. Another duo of armed _karashok_ guarded the doors and once again, the door was opened for her as she approached.

As soon as Hawke entered, her gaze was drawn with laser-like focus to the Arishok, who stood with his back to her at a large bay window, his muscled arms clasped loosely behind him. He was dressed in the uniform that he had been wearing the night of the gala at The Keep _sans_ the long sleeveless jacket. She wasn't sure if he meant to convey disdain or superiority by having his back to her as she entered but, either way, she wasn't complaining about the view she was getting. Those were very tight pants.

It was strange to Hawke that now, when she was here in his presence, she felt pleasantly invigorated. It was a welcome change from the unfamiliar tension she'd been experiencing in the car ride. She was thinking of the ease with which they'd interacted a few nights ago on the Wounded Coast and it soothed her mind, somehow.

She went further into the room towards the large desk in the center, which had two chairs situated in front of it for visitors.

"_Shanedan_, Arishok." Hawke was uncomfortably aware that her voice sounded more like a husky caress as she spoke his name than the brisk business-like tone she'd wanted to adopt.

The Arishok finally turned to face her; as usual, a search of his face lent her no clue as to his current mood. The man would be a killer Wicked Grace player, should he ever put his mind to it.

"My people have fought the corrupt magisters of the Imperium for centuries. We use the _arvaarad _to restrain our _saarebas _and the _bas saarabas_ with whom we have dealings. It is a basic and necessary security measure. Yet, at your insistence on not wearing the device, I have relented." There was an unspoken _"why?"_ at the end of the Arishok's statement, as if he was bemused by his own actions.

Hawke had no answer to his tacit question. Even though their acquaintance was short, she had no doubts that relenting on _anything_ was something the Arishok did rarely, if ever. Yet as he pointed out, he had done just that, so she wouldn't leave.

She shrugged lightly and said only, "The matter you wished to discuss must be important indeed. I find myself very curious to know why the mighty Arishok would summon a lowly _bas_ like me."

He let out an abrupt exhalation of air that would be called a snort if emanating from a figure less dignified.

"Self-deprecation does not suit you, Hawke. Sit and I will tell you why I have brought you here." The Arishok motioned to the chairs in front of the desk for Hawke to sit, while he took his place in the large, dark leather chair on his side. Rather than sitting erectly as one would expect from a general, he lounged against the back of the chair, his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers loosely steepled in front of his face as he studied Hawke. She was afforded a closer look at his dark-colored talons. She shivered lightly as her unruly mind pictured those talons grazing down her back, leaving white trails in their wake.

"Enlighten me," she said. _Do anything you'd like to me_, she thought.

The Arishok opened a drawer to his side and removed a folder from it, lightly tossing it to slide to Hawke's side of the desk. "I have learned much of you over the past several days. My _ashaad_ have been thorough in their research."

Eyebrows raised, Hawked plucked the folder from the desk and examined its contents. The Arishok had compiled quite a dossier, with her activities in Kirkwall seeming to be the main focus. She turned the page to a rather unflattering photo that had been somehow unearthed from her teenage years in Ferelden. She faced it toward the Arishok. "I'll have you know, everyone was wearing their hair like that back then. Don't hold it against me."

Unsurprisingly, his face remained impassive.

She tossed the dossier back on the desk. "Impressive snooping. What motivates this sudden interest in yours truly?"

He rested his hands on the armrests and turned his head to gaze out the bay window. "That night on the beach, I mentioned to you that I have one more task to complete before I am able to return to Par Vollen." His eyes returned to her face, searchingly. "Do you recall?"

Hawke had relived their brief encounter at Wounded Coast Park in her mind more times than she'd care to admit. "Yes, I remember," was all she said.

At her affirmative response, the Arishok continued. Gesturing to the dossier on the desk, he said, "Your profile indicates that you're a resourceful woman. When you embark on a task, you complete it, without exception."

"I'm blushing."

As if she hadn't spoken, he said, "I would enlist your aid, Hawke."

Ah, now they were on familiar terrain. How many times had she heard a variation on this particular theme? Coming from the Arishok, though, Hawke had to admit the familiar words were somewhat surprising. The man must be desperate to seek help from a non-Qunari—a dreaded mage, no less.

Of course he would have her help; there was no question in her mind that she would aid him.

Hawke leaned back in her chair and casually crossed her long legs. The Arishok's eyes flickered downward; Hawke smiled.

"I live to serve, Arishok. Tell me how I can assist you."

The Arishok stood up from his chair and took up his position at the window again. "A priceless Qunari relic was stolen from us—from _me_. Have you heard of the Tome of Koslun?"

"No, I'm sorry to say I haven't."

He returned to his desk, punched a few keys on the keyboard, and swiveled the computer's monitor to face in Hawke's direction. On the screen was the image of an impressively thick book with an ornate design on the cover.

"The Tome has not been in our possession since the Dragon Age when an unscrupulous Antivan merchant named Castillon intercepted its return from the Orlesians and sold it to the Imperium. It was recently recovered when we prevailed against the magisters." The Arishok's voice had lowered to a growl during the history lesson.

"And now it's gone again? You should put a LoJack on that thing," Hawke suggested.

The Arishok slammed his palms down on the desk, startling Hawke with the sudden movement. "This is no jest, Hawke! Once more, the Tome of Koslun has been stolen from us. It _must_ be returned to my people; until then, I am denied Par Vollen, barred from there as if I am no better than _basra vashedan_!" He pushed away from the desk roughly and strode to her side of the desk, towering over her seated form.

"Make your decision. It is only due to the vital importance of this task that I would seek the aid of one such as yourself," the Arishok declared, unknowingly echoing Hawke's thoughts from earlier.

With his golden eyes flashing and his nostrils flaring slightly, the Arishok was an extremely imposing figure as he loomed over her.

Hawke was not an easily intimidated woman.

She smiled sweetly up at the horned man and answered, "I will help you retrieve your book, Arishok."

She saw something resembling relief briefly pass over his features. He nodded slightly and crossed his arms. "What do you ask in return for this service? I know _basra_ do nothing for free."

Hawke sighed. It was fortunate that she was neither easily intimidated nor easily offended. Sweet Andraste, the man was cantankerous. She would have to thank all of her grumpy and sharp-tongued companions for thickening her skin over the years.

"Yes, we are a greedy lot," Hawke agreed, "I suppose it's a good thing some of us are _resourceful_ enough to be useful on occasion, isn't it?"

The Arishok made no acknowledgment of her pointed comment.

Hawke stood up from her chair and went to the computer screen, tilting her head as she studied the image of the book more closely. Without taking her eyes away from the screen, she said, "Yes, I can name my price."

"Very well. How much?"

She turned to face the Arishok once more, leaned back idly against the desk and braced herself with her hands. "I would require payment in advance."

The Arishok grunted, "You are so confident in your abilities?"

Hawke quirked her eyebrow and simply said, "Yes."

He searched her face and whatever he saw in her expression seemed to satisfy him. "Agreed. Again I ask: how much?"

Hawke crossed her arms and smiled sweetly again. Any of her friends would have known to view all of these sweet smiles with immediate suspicion. The Arishok had no such foresight.

"Oh, Arishok. I really am the girl who has everything; I have no need for monetary reward."

The Arishok exhaled impatiently. "What. Do. You. Want."

"Dinner."

He narrowed his eyes. "What."

Again with the honeyed smile. "You and I. Dinner. Together."

The Arishok's eyebrows lowered, shielding the expression in his deep-set eyes. "You and I have dinner together and then you will find the Tome of Koslun."

"That's the long and short of it, yes."

The Arishok sat down abruptly in one of the chairs, and leaned his elbows in his knees. "You are an unusual woman, Marian Hawke."

"It's been said," Hawke agreed reasonably.

He sat motionless for a moment, gazing at nothing. Then he focused on her again. "I agree to your terms."

Hawke let out a breath she wasn't even aware she'd been holding. She allowed herself to acknowledge the desperate pounding of her heart. If she'd come up with such an idea outside of this room, she would've thought of several reasons why it was an ill-conceived plan to essentially coerce the leader of the Qunari military into a date. But it was a done deal now, and he'd agreed.

She pushed away from the desk and stood in front of the still-seated Arishok. "Excellent. Would you prefer to make the arrangements or shall I?"

Hawke knew she'd passed "pushy" a few miles back, so she thought maybe the Arishok would like to wrest some semblance of control from this situation which had surely turned out far differently than he'd expected.

The Arishok was gazing at nothing again. She'd clearly knocked the poor man off-center.

"Arishok?" she prodded gently.

His eye shot up to her face. "I will make the arrangements."

She nodded. "I'll wait to hear from you."

Unsure of what to say next, she gathered her purse from the unoccupied chair and walked toward the door.

"Hawke."

He was still seated in the chair but the look in his eyes was intense enough that she could feel the effects in her body from where she stood.

"You will not fail me."

Hawke inclined her head. "You won't be disappointed, Arishok."

She slipped quietly through the door.


	6. Chapter 6

"Doth mine eyes deceive me? Is that _my daughter_ at her desk before 8 o'clock in the morning?" Leandra Amell set two cups of coffee down on the desk as she sat in the plush chair opposite her daughter, who was staring vacantly at something on her computer monitor.

Hawke grabbed one of the cups and inhaled the aroma deeply before taking a sip. She groaned, "Ah, I so needed this. You are a gift from the Maker, Mother."

Leandra watched her daughter fondly. It had been too long since she'd shared a cup of coffee with her eldest—and only living—child. Marian's various… activities kept her away from the office and out and about at late hours. Always an early riser herself, sometimes Leandra had already completed her business at the office and left for home before her daughter had even made her first appearance.

"Why are we graced with your presence so early, my love?"

Hawke sighed and frustratedly rubbed at her eyes. "I had to meet with Hubert at the old mine this morning to go over some things. Apparently, there's been talk about there being a protest at the construction site by some fringe religious group who regards the place as sacred since it was the last known High Dragon sighting in this area." She shook her head in bewilderment. "I can't believe they'd rather keep that Maker-forsaken patch of land the way it is than have affordable housing units, all because some overgrown reptile may have squatted there ages ago."

Leandra clucked sympathetically. "Well, you'll think of something, you always do. Let me know if there's something I can do to smooth things over." After taking a sip of her coffee, she cleared her throat delicately. "Marian, does your friend still run that blog that's so popular these days?"

Hawke's eyes remained on her computer screen as she murmured a distracted noise of agreement. "Mmm, Varric? Yes, he still does. Why?"

"I happened to check it this morning—I admit it's a guilty pleasure of mine; he's so witty!—and well… you might want to look for yourself, dear." Leandra had a small, unreadable smile on her face that alerted Hawke to something amiss.

She navigated her extranet browser to Varric's blog, The Clothesline ("Airing Out All of Kirkwall's Dirty Laundry!"). Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

She dialed Varric's number on the office phone and put it on speaker as she continued reading in horror.

"Hello," came the dwarf's sleep-roughened voice.

Hawke dived right in and furiously read from the post right on the blog's homepage. "'Hightown hottie Marian Hawke seems more than happy to meet the demands of the Qun, as she had a private tete-a-tete with a certain horny—I mean, _horned—_leader at the Qunari embassy yesterday morning. Look at that satisfied smile, readers—you know what they say: once you go Qunari, you won't be sorry!' WHERE DO I EVEN START, VARRIC?"

Leandra ducked her head to hide a smile.

The low-pitched chuckle that rumbled out of the phone's speaker did not seem nearly apologetic enough for Hawke. "I couldn't resist, Hawke. Whenever I post something about you, my hit count goes through the roof!"

Hawke was shaking her head in disbelief as she examined the picture of her in front of the Qunari embassy. Somehow Varric had managed to snap a picture of her as she emerged from the main doors, with becomingly flushed cheeks and a gentle smile curling her lips. The morning breeze had even tousled her long hair to look charmingly rumpled. She truly did not look as if she'd just come from a business meeting. Hawke experienced a small echo of the giddiness she'd felt after her meeting with the Arishok just by looking at it.

She spat, "How did you even get this shot, you creeper? You're supposed to use your sniping abilities for _good_, Varric, not for taking paparazzi photos of your friends!"

Now slightly defensive, Varric said, "Listen, I knew you were going to be there and just on the off chance something interesting happened—which, you must admit, so often does when you're around—I mosied on over with my camera. It's not my fault that your meeting with the big guy must have been so _very_ satisfying to put such a beautiful smile on your face."

Hawke was not amused. "We had important, _legitimate_ business to discuss, the Arishok and I, and if you think I'm going to tell you about it now that you've plastered my face all over your gossip rag, you're sorely mistaken."

Varric's snort came through eloquently from the phone's speaker. "Uh-huh. Business. Well, as I remember it, the night you made the appointment to see him, you mentioned something about wanting to climb him like a—"

Hawke's eyes darted to Leandra, whose eyebrows had arched in motherly interest. "Why don't you wish _my mother_ a good morning, Varric, and apologize for embarrassing her daughter in front of all of Kirkwall?"

There was a small pause before Varric's husky voice said smoothly, "The lovely Leandra, how are you today? I'm sorry if my witless ramblings on the extranet have caused you any undue embarrassment."

Leandra chuckled softly and, making pointed eye contact with Hawke, replied, "I've survived much worse than a little gossip, Varric. Although I might have you follow my daughter around with a camera all the time if it means I might actually find out where she is and what she's doing on any given day. Maker knows she doesn't tell me herself."

Hawke's eyes closed briefly as her Leandra's guilt bomb scored a not-small number of damage points.

Leandra was continuing to talk to Varric as if Hawke was not in the room. "Would you believe that Marian didn't even tell her own mother than she was meeting with the leader of the Qunari military? Not a word! As if it wouldn't interest me in the slightest to know such a thing!"

"An unforgivable lapse in her daughterly duty, Leandra," Varric concurred. "I swear, I don't know how you put up with her sometimes."

Hawke had had enough of the dwarf's smarmy tone. "Varric? I'm going to say a few phrases and I want you to let them marinate for a while. Let 'em stew. You, gently lulled to sleep with a mild spell. Me, with a tub of the hot wax I use on my legs. Your chest hair, being _ripped from the roots_ until you're as pink and hairless as a baby nug. As a writer, tell me: how's my imagery? Can you picture this scenario in your mind?"

She thought she heard a gulp emanating from the phone. "Now, Hawke, let's be reas—"

"Bye now," Hawke drawled, before ending the call. She leaned back in her chair and slumped down.

"Now that you've sufficiently terrified your friend, might I ask what business you had with the Arishok?" Leandra asked. She felt a small pang in her chest that she truly had so little knowledge of Marian's day-to-day existence. The day after the gala a few weeks ago, her daughter had made a passing reference to having introduced herself to the Qunari leader but that was all she had said. Now Leandra had to find out from a gossip blog of all places that Marian was meeting privately with him.

Hawke let out a small sigh. She detested having a headache so early in the morning unless the headache was the result of some very entertaining nighttime activities. This headache was decidedly not the result of such things.

"I assure you, Mother, it was all completely innocent. I'm going to be helping the Arishok with a small, private matter that he would like handled discreetly. It's nothing I haven't done before and like I said, purely business." Hawke made an excellent attempt at meeting her mother's eyes.

Leandra eyebrows communicated her suspicion. "Marian, really. 'Completely innocent'? 'Purely business'? I _have_ seen pictures of the man. He's powerful, terrifying and completely your type."

Hawke put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. Her mother knew her too well. "Okay, okay. I will admit to perhaps having the tiniest bit of _personal _interest in the Arishok. Remote. Miniscule. However, I really am helping him with something, I swear."

Leandra continued to set her gimlet eye on her daughter. She knew the truth would come spilling out eventually. Marian's teenage years had been… eventful, but her daughter was too forthright to hide things from her mother for long.

Hawke cleared her throat uncomfortably. Damned if Leandra couldn't make her feel like she was fifteen again and just been caught sneaking through the window past curfew.

The words kept coming out of her mouth of their own accord. "And I might have, almost, sort of, forced him into going on a date with me in exchange for helping him."

"MARIAN HAWKE!"

Hawke groaned and put her head down on her arms. Her voice was muffled as she said, "I know! I don't know what came over me!" She raised her head up and looked imploringly at her mother.

"He agreed to it! He could have thrown me out of the building! That must mean something, right?"

Leandra sighed and said gently, "Marian, if you were having trouble in the… _social_ arena, you know I would have been more than happy to introduce you to some nice young men right here in Kirkwall. You're a beautiful girl; you certainly don't have to resort to _extorting_ foreign leaders into an evening out with you."

Hawke's head collapsed onto her desk again. "This is a nightmare. I'm in bed and this is all a nightmare. I'll wake up and none of this will have happened."

Her pronouncement, sadly, was proved inaccurate and Hawke continued to exist in this unfortunate new reality. Not even an entire hour had passed after discovering Varric's sudden but inevitable betrayal when Hawke's phone vibrated. A glance down at the caller ID revealed the phone number of the office of the Arishok.

It was completely possible that the Arishok's well-informed network of _ashaad_ had not even heard of Kirkwall's most popular blog and would not, in fact, even stoop so low as to read such drivel if given the opportunity. _I'm sure there's not even a Qunari word for 'blog'_, she mused confidently.

Hawke's companions would counter that her unflagging optimism in the face of crushing odds was one of the characteristics that made her a strong leader.

"Hello?"

Tallis cheerful voice came through the phone. "Ms. Hawke, I have the Arishok on the line for you."

Hawke swallowed. "Of course you do. Put him through."

A few moments later, the Arishok's baritone rumbled in her ear, sending a shiver straight down her spine. "Hawke."

"Arishok!" she exclaimed airily. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"I've made arrangements for our… meeting. This Friday evening. My assistant will send you the details."

Not the most romantic of dinner arrangements that had ever been made in the history of man-woman relations, but she supposed she'd chucked romance out of the window once she'd essentially forced the Arishok into being her date.

"This Friday is perfect. I look forward to it." She smiled and shook her head. The kicker was that she actually _was_ looking forward to it. The Arishok had her wrapped around his enormous pointy finger and he didn't even know it.

"Hawke," he said again.

"Yes, Arishok?"

"I trust that this…meeting will not be publicized as our last one was. See to it."

Her stomach turned over. "Of course, Arishok, I do apolo—"

The call was already ended.

"Varric, you son of a—" she muttered.

The dwarf's luxurious chest pelt would not last the night, she swore to herself.


	7. Chapter 7

The clock on Hawke's dashboard switched relentlessly to 7:58 PM. She'd been sitting outside in her truck for ten minutes, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as her mind raced.

The Arishok had made their reservation at a small but popular Seheron cuisine restaurant for eight o'clock. Somehow, Hawke didn't think he would look kindly upon her waltzing in fashionably late, especially given the fact that this whole evening was the result of her admittedly impulsive proposal.

Yet, there she sat in the parking lot outside the restaurant, letting the minutes pass.

Hawke wouldn't say that she _regretted_ having forced her company on the man. She was incredibly attracted to him, she wanted to spend time with him, and here she was, about to spend the evening with him. Ends, means, so on and so forth. As she'd told her mother, he was the bloody Arishok and if he had truly objected to sharing a meal with her, he would have told her so using clear and colorful descriptive phrases.

The Qunari had an astonishing number of curses for such an impassive, stoic people. She'd looked up the dirty words first, of course.

Something inside of her, a small, insistent voice, was telling her that maybe, just maybe, the Arishok felt drawn to her as well. To ask for her aid in an important task after such a short acquaintance, to agree to her forward proposal instead of tossing her out on her ass—these didn't seem to be the actions of a man who was indifferent to her.

Of course, maybe these were the same kind of mental gymnastics that crazy stalker types performed in order to justify watching the objects of their obsession with binoculars from their vantage point outside in the bushes.

Hawke took a deep breath and looked at herself sternly in the rear-view mirror. _Woman up, Hawke, it's a date, not single combat! Now get in there and woo your man! _

She stepped out of the truck at precisely eight o'clock.

* * *

Hawke glanced around the small, intimately-lit restaurant as the formally dressed Qunari host escorted her to the private dining room where the Arishok awaited her. She wasn't surprised that he'd chosen a private room rather than eating in the main dining room; she didn't especially want to be gawked at as she ate dinner with the most easily recognized Qunari in all of Kirkwall.

A chastened Varric, still living under the threat of forced depilation, had sworn to her earlier that evening that neither he nor any of his minions would be within 10 miles of Hawke or the Arishok all night.

The host discreetly knocked on the sliding partition before opening it for Hawke to enter.

The Arishok rose as she came into the small room. She didn't imagine it to be the act of a gentleman rising for a lady, rather, that of a man unaccustomed to being in a seated and possibly vulnerable position when another person entered the room.

As he drew up to his full impressive height, towering over her as usual, Hawke was gratified to see those sharp eyes of his flicker down over her figure before meeting her eyes. She'd selected a midnight-blue dress, made of a fabric with a subtle shimmer that draped over her form enticingly. The color complemented her eyes well and it was the perfect blend of classy and sexy. She had to search his face for sign of a reaction, but it seemed to her like maybe the gold of his eyes warmed slightly.

He was wearing the more formal armor she'd already seen. That was entirely fine with her; she hadn't expected a suit and tie. Although, come to think of it, that would've been fine too. She wasn't picky.

The dining room itself was well-appointed with dark wood paneled walls and large, colorful framed prints of gorgeous landscapes. Seheron, presumably. The lush, verdant shades drew her eyes; on a more normal evening, she might've taken her time looking at them but the overpowering presence of the Arishok forestalled this action.

"_Shanedan, _Arishok," Hawke murmured, smiling warmly. She decided at that moment to try to forget how they'd ended up in this moment and just to enjoy being here with him.

"Hawke."

Would she ever get tired of hearing her name said in that growl of a baritone? Just that one word was enough to make her stomach do somersaults.

They were both silent as their elven server filled their water glasses and told them the specials for the evening. Hawke wouldn't have been able to recall a single one if pressed. The Arishok made a short nod at the conclusion of the server's spiel and he quietly left them alone.

Opening a menu and scanning the options before her, Hawke said, "This was a wonderful choice, Arishok. I've always wanted to try this restaurant but just never got around to it. Truthfully, I don't go out very much these days, at least not to places like this. But then, I guess you already knew that from your research into the fascinating life of Marian Hawke." Her eyes teased him.

The Arishok leaned back, perched his elbow casually on the arm of his chair, and put his hand on his chin, golden eyes not leaving her face. "It is true, from what I have learned, you are… different from the many _bas_ that I have met, here in Kirkwall and elsewhere."

"You mean you haven't stumbled across many young, female mages who run a successful family business and, in their spare time, use their abilities and position to right wrongs and help the helpless alongside a group of colorful, diverse companions? I'm shocked."

He said nothing, just sat and studied her. What he was thinking, she had no clue, but it did give her the opportunity to study him in return without feeling like she was ogling him.

After a moment, she dropped her eyes to look down at the menu. She was hungry, as usual. In the old days, her mother had always good-naturedly complained about having to feed three starving mages and one strapping young teenage male. Hawke knew without question that Leandra would give anything she had in order to have them all together again for even just one meal.

Everything on the menu sounded delicious but her mind couldn't seem to focus enough to choose what she wanted.

"What would you recommend, Arishok," Hawke gestured with her menu. "I'm hungry enough to eat a bronto but I don't see that on the menu."

"If you prefer, I will order for us both."

Placing her menu down on the table, she said, "Please do. I trust you completely."

When their server popped back in to take their order, the Arishok spoke briefly in Qunlat. The elf nodded to them both and left again, discreetly sliding the partition door behind him. Hawke wondered briefly if he was rushing back to the kitchen and relaying every minute detail of what he witnessed between the Qunari leader and his dinner companion. She had effectively gagged Varric but she couldn't control what some waiter texted to his buddies on his break time.

Hawke perched her elbow on the table, leaning her chin on her hand. There was a potent silence in the room but neither of the occupants seemed to mind it as they studied one another.

Deciding to break the silence, Hawke said openly, "I find myself unendingly curious about you, Arishok. I know so little about the Qunari, your ways, your views…_you. _I would like to know more, if you would indulge me."

"What specific information do you seek?"

Gesturing broadly with one hand, she said, "I just want to know about you. Anything you'd care to share with me."

The Arishok's lips curled. "_Basra_ are overly fond of purposeless chatter."

Hawke was torn between frustration and amusement. Clearly, lighthearted first-date conversation was out of the question with the Arishok. Prying personal information out of the man was going to be like pulling teeth. A sudden, vivid mental image of what pulling a tooth from the Arishok's mouth would entail prompted Hawke to laugh softly to herself.

"Very well. How about I ask questions and you answer them? Will that work?"

He gave a short nod.

Clasping her hands together excitedly, Hawke said, "Excellent! Let us begin." She knew exactly what she wanted to ask first; she'd been fairly burning with curiosity about it.

"I'm aware that traditional Qunari relationships aren't like ours, meaning you don't form monogamous pairs, correct?"

"Correct."

Unsure of exactly how to word the next part of her question, she nevertheless barreled forward. "So is it safe for me to assume there's no… interested party at home who would want to scratch my eyes out if she knew we were here together?"

The Arishok's eyebrows lowered questioningly. It was funny, she used to think his face gave away none of his thoughts, but she was learning that the slight changes in his features communicated a great deal if one was playing close enough attention.

Continuing, she said, "You know, some gorgeous kossith girl with a nice… rack?" She swirled her hands suggestively around her chest before moving up to her head where horns would be.

The Arishok exhaled loudly. "This is something you have been _unendingly curious_ about?"

Hawke said defensively, "Amongst other things, yes. Your ways are so different from our own when it comes to relationships but, at the same time, some things are universal. Emotional bonds, love, lust, whatever you want to call it. I can't imagine that you, the great and mighty Arishok, would be considered anything other than a prime catch."

Something resembling a rumble emanated from the Arishok's chest. Radiating impatience at this line of questioning, he gestured dismissively. "You see from a flawed perspective, Hawke. Those who follow the Qun are not subject to the whims of transient physical desires; these fleeting urges are considered distractions from fulfilling one's purpose under the Qun. Relationships between males and females are arranged by our _tamassrans _for the purposes of breeding strong offspring, a new generation of Qunari, not for the sake of _romance_." Of course the word romance was said with a lip-curling sneer.

Hawke leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes widening incredulously. "So let me get this straight: you've never had sex except on command. The Arishok, the baddest motherfucker around so far as I can tell, lets himself be paired off and bred like an animal?"

There was the rumble again. It would feel amazing to be pressed up against him when he does that; she'd be able to feel the vibration through her whole body, she just knew it.

His hand sliced through the air. "_Parshaara_! There is no purpose to this line of questioning. Our ways are not for one such as you to understand."

Hawke smirked, not taking offense in the slightest. She knew she'd pushed him. "Hey, you were the one that let me choose the topic. I would have been happy with hearing you tell me funny stories from when you were a baby Arishok."

His eyebrows knitted together. "One is not born to be Arishok. It is a role that is earned."

Throwing her hands out pointedly, she said, "See? I admit to being woefully ignorant on how one goes about becoming the Arishok. Enlighten me!"

After that, Hawke called upon every bit of her good-natured charm and genuine curiosity to pry as much information as possible from her dinner companion. She learned how he steadily rose in the ranks of the _antaam_, from _karashok _to _karasten_ to _sten_. She wouldn't say he was an enthusiastic raconteur along the lines of some of her more garrulous companions but his even, impassive manner of speaking nonetheless held her enthralled.

Their dinner arrived and Hawke savored her perfectly grilled _dathrasi_ tenderloin. At the Arishok's recommendation, Hawke had her first taste of Seheron wine and fell in love with its sweet, smoky flavor. She cut herself off after two glasses; she wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of being anything less than fully in control of her faculties in front of the Arishok. Hawke was a flirt by nature and she had been helpless to resist her natural urge to do so, although she managed to keep it fairly subtle. Direct eye contact, warm smiles, gentle teasing—the sort of things she did almost unconsciously when she was attracted to a man. Any more wine and she wasn't sure she'd be able to restrain herself further.

They were almost finished with their dessert—some wonderfully tart fruit that she didn't know the name of, topped with a fresh sweet cream—and the Arishok was recounting his victory against a particularly vile magister-general with a reputation for committing unspeakable acts of torture on any Qunari who was captured in combat. Hawke wondered idly if the Arishok had ever run across Danarius on the battlefield. She could think of little else in the world that would provide her with more visceral satisfaction than putting that fucker's head in a box, wrapping it up, and giving it to Fenris for a nameday present.

As the server cleared the table, Hawke, fortified by good food, wine, and conversation, decided that she was going to Make A Move. The instant she made this decision, one part of her brain was frantically telling her that it was too soon, too ballsy, and too much outside of anything in his nonexistent experience with _bas_-style romantic relationships. Of course, another part of her brain, the part that said things like, Hey, let's go check out this cave, guys, there're probably no giant spiders in here, was screaming at her that, yes, that's exactly what she needed to do—surprise him, blindslide him, do something to make him look at her the way she'd thought she'd seen glimpses of during their previous encounters.

"Arishok, may I…" she trailed off, unsure how exactly to proceed.

The Arishok's lips twisted into a small smirk. "You have pestered me with a deluge of questions all evening and now you are uncertain."

"Yes, well, this is different. I want to ask if I may… approach you."

His eyes pierced through her. "For what purpose?"

"I'd very much like to touch… your horns." There were a lot of things of his that she wanted to touch, but she'd start there.

Silence. Oh, Maker.

His gaze still boring into her like a drill, he said, "It is a strange request."

Hawke smiled. He hadn't said no. "Oh, I don't know about that, Arishok. I would predict most non-kossith are extremely curious about them. I'm just one of the few that's brazen enough to ask."

Her answer was a non-committal grunt.

Eyebrows raised questioningly, she asked, "So… may I?"

There was another beat of silence then he raised one giant, clawed hand and gave a short, beckoning motion.

Fuckin' score one for Hawke, she crowed internally.

Heart pounding in her chest, she rose from her chair and went to stand in front of him. Even from a seated position, she only had a few inches of height on him. Close as she was, she could feel the heat from his body, like the night she'd sat next to him on the rock at Wounded Coast. Her eyes busily ran over his face, taking in the metallic hue of his skin, the supple curve of his lips, and those golden eyes of his, which were fixed on her face.

Rather than standing beside him in order to reach his horns, she nudged one of his massive legs with hers and he obligingly parted them so she could scoot in between. Starting at the base of his skull where the horns originated, she lightly ran the pads of her fingertips along the ridged surface. Stopping at the first set of bands encircling them, she asked him what they signified.

"My rank as Arishok. The Ariqun and the Arigena are the only others to have banded horns."

Her fingers drifted down the base of the horns to where his silvery hair started. She lightly scratched her nails there and was awarded with a rumble. She would not disgrace the Arishok by thinking of it as a purr.

Hawke looked away from where her curious fingers were doing their work and met the Arishok's gaze. His face was close enough to hers that she could detect flecks of silver in his eyes. She deliberately let her eyes drop down to his lips in the hopes of getting his thoughts trained in that particular direction. She strongly suspected that kissing was not part of the deal when a male and female Qunari were paired off for highly regulated, procreative sex; she was more the willing to be the emissary of that particular _bas_ custom, all in the name of improving cultural relations, of course.

Her fingers had gently threaded themselves through the surprisingly soft hair near his pointed ears. She disentangled them and drew them down to his ears, where three gold earrings pierced the cartilage.

"And the earrings…?" she murmured.

"To signify mastery of the pillars of the Qun." She definitely wasn't imagining the huskier tone to his already low-pitched voice. It sent a tickling thrum from her stomach on down as she came to the conclusion that she might be the first person to be touching the Arishok in such a casually intimate way.

And he was letting her.

The Arishok obviously did not view her as a threat, even though, in general, his people were extremely distrustful of mages and the power they wielded. Yet here she stood, inches away from him, certainly close enough to end his life very effectively should that have been her aim. And her hands had long ago finished their exploration of his horns, yet he hadn't told her back off.

She could work with this.

Moving slowly but deliberately, Hawke placed her hands on the sides of his face and brought her mouth down to his. She kissed him gently, restraining the passion that was swirling inside her. She moved her hands through his hair, and clasped the back of his head, tugging lightly on the silvery strands.

She felt a prickling sensation on her back and realized that the Arishok has brought his giant hands up from the chair arms where they'd been resting to the small of her back. Her lips curved in a smile against the Arishok's warm mouth.

She allowed herself to enjoy the sensations of his hands on her back and his mouth beneath her for a few more moments, then backed away enough to look into his eyes. The gold color was as warm as she'd ever seen it.

"You didn't stop me," Hawke whispered.

She didn't think he would answer, at first, but then he said only, "No."

_No, I didn't, Hawke. I let you stroke my horns, my hair, my ears. I let you kiss me. Though these things go against all the teachings of the Qun, I let you do these things. I have relented once more. It was my choice to do so._

She heard all that was left unsaid by his simple no.

Hawke gave him one more soft, quick kiss and then leaned her forehead against his. "I want to see you again."

He nodded tersely; she smiled.

It was only later that night as she turned fitfully in her bed that she realized, somewhat amazedly, that he'd never even asked how her search for the Tome of Koslun was progressing.


	8. Chapter 8

_Tap tap tap_

Hawke paused in the act of brushing her teeth, turned off the faucet, and tilted her head to listen.

_Tap tap tap_

Rolling her eyes a bit, she quickly rinsed out her mouth then padded barefoot to her bedroom door. She opened it and said, "It's already half past eight, Mother. I expected you at the crack of dawn."

Leandra smiled without shame and moved past her daughter, nestling in the comfortable armchair by the bed.

"Yes, I restrained myself admirably, didn't I?"

Hawke headed to her closet, shedding her robe and nightclothes casually as she went, leaving a trail behind her. Leandra eyed the discarded clothes disapprovingly but resisted the temptation to pick them up.

Hawke's disembodied voice came from inside the closet. "I'll go ahead and assume you're here for the debriefing."

"You assume correctly."

"What if I told you that I haven't really… processed everything yet?"

That was unusual, Leandra mused. Her daughter was not a contemplative sort of woman, this she knew. She'd been an impulsive child and a rash teenager; only with adulthood and the accompanying tragedies that had befallen their family did some of that impulsivity get reined in. Even so, Marian was still quick to process and react, her active mind constantly at work. That she was now taking the time to reflect, after her decision to…engage the Arishok socially, meant something. Leandra wasn't sure exactly what it meant, but it was a break from Marian's usual routine.

Leandra said slowly, "Hmm…can you give me an impression of how the evening went?"

Nothing was heard from the closet for a moment. Hawke emerged wearing jeans and a bra, a colorful top still in her hand, a thoughtful look on her face. She pulled the top over her head and used one hand to pull her tousled hair out from under the neckline.

She looked at Leandra then and smiled softly, remembering the feel of the Arishok's warm, dry lips against her own. "I think… it went well."

Leandra cocked an eyebrow. "I hope you don't expect me to be satisfied with that."

Hawke sat down at her vanity and started brushing her hair, eyeing her mother's reflection. "Believe it or not, it was surprisingly…normal? For a first date? Given that he's who he is and I'm who I am. We ate dinner—which was fantastic, by the way—I pestered him into talking about himself, which he did, more freely than I could have hoped for." She paused her hairbrush mid-stroke. "I, uh, kissed him."

Leandra crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. "Oh, reeeeally?"

"Yes, reeeeally," Hawke replied, mimicking her mother's expression. "You know me, I couldn't resist the urge to at least try."

She suddenly wanted to articulate for her mother just why she found the man so damned appealing. It wasn't just the physical aspect, although Maker knows that didn't hurt.

Continuing to slowly drag the brush through her hair, she said, "When I'm with him, I can feel that he's completely _present_ in the moment. I'm not an expert in the Qun, by any means, but it has something to do with that, I think. Not fretting over things in the past or worrying about what's to come; just being there in the moment, not struggling against it. That's not to say that I know him inside and out already, not by any means. It's just…there's nothing hidden or obscured. He's the Arishok and he has nothing to hide."

Setting the brush down, Hawke turned around in her chair and tilted her head slightly as she looked at Leandra. "I think you can understand why that would be something I can appreciate."

Leandra knew immediately to what her daughter was referring—her relationship with that damned Anders. That _man—_though she was loathe to refer to him as such—had broken her daughter's heart in ways Leandra didn't even fully comprehend because Marian had never divulged the details regarding the end of the relationship. She could vividly remember the utter helplessness she'd felt in the weeks after the mage's disappearance; Marian had been beyond distraught, unable and unwilling to speak of him, much less tell her mother what had happened. Even now, her heart clenched in remembrance of the desperate fear that somehow she was going to lose her eldest daughter after losing her other darlings in such a short span of time.

Of course Marian appreciates the Arishok's immediacy, Leandra realized. Anders had been nothing but hidden motives and fruitless struggle; the Arishok was resolute, centered, and supremely self-aware. She could see how those characteristics, combined with the Qunari leader's undeniably powerful physical presence, would draw her spirited daughter in like a lodestone.

She smiled softly at her daughter. "I think you're in danger of becoming smitten, my love."

Hawke swiveled back around to look in the mirror at her reflection. She stared herself down.

Ruefully, she said, "You might just be right about that, Mom."

* * *

An hour or so later found Hawke trudging up the outside staircase leading to Varric's apartment over The Hanged Man. She needed his help and the only forms of payment that the insatiably curious dwarf ever accepted were breaking news, wild rumors, or unfounded speculation. Usually Hawke was all too willing to share whatever tidbits of gossip she'd picked up around the city but this time, she knew exactly what Varric would want to know and she was strangely reluctant to share the details of her date with the Arishok.

Hawke took a deep breath, set her shoulders back in a more confident posture, and knocked on the door. Never let it be said that Marian Hawke backed down from a challenge.

The door opened and Varric stood there in all of his stocky, stubble-cheeked glory. He paused for only a moment before grinning widely.

"Hawke! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He bowed smartly and made a smooth gesture for her to enter his abode.

His gentlemanly behavior instantly rankled and she deliberately checked him with her hip as she entered. His grin only grew wider of course; for a man who was not a blood relative, he could often surpass even Carter-levels of irritating.

Hawke situated herself in the overstuffed arm chair in the living room, stretching out her legs and plunking her feet down on the coffee table. The more gentlemanly Varric behaved, the more Hawke played the Fereldan rube.

Lacing her fingers behind her head, she said, "Maybe I'm just here for the sparkling conversation." Glancing around idly, she asked, "Where's your better half this morning?"

She knew Merrill, Varric's long-time partner, wasn't in the apartment because if she had been, Hawke would've already been barraged with queries and comments about this, that, and the other thing, without there being any hope at all of a rational train of thought to follow. She actually enjoyed the elf girl's ramblings a great deal but she wasn't sure if she could muster an appropriately enthusiastic response this morning.

Varric was in the kitchen, pouring two cups of coffee. He and Hawke both took it black as night.

As he walked over to the living room and handed his guest a mug, he replied, "Left for the museum before the sun was up. They're still setting up the exhibit for Elven History Month."

Merrill was the curator for a small local museum and she was passionately devoted to her job. Varric never complained about the long hours that his lover spent away from home because he knew the job had been Merrill's saving grace. Though you'd never guess it from her sweet , bumbling ways, Merrill was a former blood mage, now in recovery for over a year.

"Keeps her busy and out of trouble, I suppose," Hawke said lightly before swallowing down a scorching sip of dark roast coffee. She tapped her fingernails on the mug for a few moments then decided to get down to business. Varric already knew she'd come with some purpose in mind, so she might as well assuage his curiosity.

After clearing her throat delicately, she said, "So, as it turns out, I might very well need your assistance with the job I'm doing for the Arishok."

"Oh?" Varric oozed delightedly. "Do tell."

After quickly recounting for her friend the sad tale of the Arishok's lost book, Hawke said, "I have my own contacts on it, of course, but I'd been counting on Isabela's, uh, special brand of knowledge to be at my disposal. Unfortunately, she's been completely _incommunicado_ for over two weeks now, no dirty voicemails, no sext messages, nothing. Has she been in contact with you?"

With a quick shake of his head and down-turned lips, Varric said, "Nope, same as you. Said she'd be on a big job and needed to stay on the down-low until it was finished."

He felt a brief pang of worry for his friend then mentally shook himself. If anyone could take care of herself, it was Izz. If she were here, she'd slap him upside the head for even doubting her. Of course, then she'd lay a big, sloppy kiss on him until he had to shove her away.

Hawke continued. "So, that's where you come in, my dwarven savior. Your contacts are nearly as colorful as Izzy's and I would be ever so grateful if you could put in a few calls. I _really_ don't think the Arishok is the kind of man that I want to disappoint."

Varric lounged back in his chair, a satisfied air completely engulfing his small form. "Hawke, of course I'll help you with whatever you need. How could you even doubt for a minute that I would come to the aid of a dear, dear friend?"

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose. "Maker, you're laying it on thick this morning. Alright, Tethras, what's this gonna cost me?"

He instantly sat forward, eager as a Mabari pup, all magnanimity vanished into thin air.

"I want details."

Hawke eyed him suspiciously. "Details. About _what_ precisely?"

Varric said reprovingly, "Let's not play games—we're past that. I want details of everything you do with the big guy and this will, of course, apply retroactively to anything done and/or said up until this point in time."

Hawke snorted, unwillingly amused. "Okay, Varric? You're skeeving me out a little bit here. How detailed are we talking about?" She hurried to add, "_Not _that there's anything to be detailed about yet?"

Varric clasped his hands behind his head, smiling smugly. "How about we just start at the beginning and we'll play it by ear?"

Hawke slumped down in her chair and groaned. She'd sold her soul to a short, hirsute gossip demon.

* * *

A short time later, her soul purged of all secrets, Hawke arrived at the mansion formerly owned by a crazy Imperial magister and now currently occupied by her friend. The wildly overgrown yard and bright orange eviction notice on the front door made the home an appalling eyesore in the upper-class neighborhood. She knew too well that Fenris reveled in disrupting the lives of his hoity-toity neighbors in whatever small way he could; not a single blade of grass would be cut as long as he had anything to say about it.

Hawke keyed in the code on the lockbox secured on the front door knob, plucked the key from within and let herself in as nonchalantly as possible.

She lightly ran up the stairs, making as little noise as possible. The door to Fenris's bedroom was open enough for her to slide through without having to open it further.

Fenris slept on his stomach, completely ensconced in the luxurious high thread-count sheets that Danarius had furnished all the beds with. Only the back of his silvery head and one tanned, muscular leg peeked out from the linens.

Hawke kicked off the ballet flats she was wearing, draped herself next to the lithe form on the bed, and idly carded her fingers through his tousled strands.

Speaking in an overly loud and cheerful tone, she said, "You know, one day I'm going to come in here and you're not going to be alone and it will be the happiest day of my life."

At the sound of her voice, Fenris's whole body jerked and his head shot up. The lyrium implants under his skin showed faintly blue in the still-dark room. As his eyes made out the blurry, smirking visage of Hawke, the blue glow faded. He turned onto his back, baring his sculpted chest and abdomen to the smiling woman next to him.

Feasting her eyes on the male specimen before her, she teased in faux-desperation, "Oh, Fenris. Can't you give up this whole 'only attracted to men' silliness and just _let me love you_?"

Fenris gave a long-suffering sigh. "Did you come over here at this unholy hour just to sexually harass me for your own amusement, Hawke?"

Hawke perched her chin on one hand and walked two of her fingers from her other hand up his chest before booping him on the nose. Fenris scrunched his nose adorably then glared at her, also adorably.

"First of all, love, it's almost noon. And secondly, yes."

The elf snorted, shook his head, and then sat up to stretch. Hawke, still lying comfortably on the bed, smiled as she watched the muscles moving under his olive skin.

"I should come over here every morning. What an inspirational start to the day."

Used to Hawke's ogling, the elf paid her no mind; he stood up in all his boxer-brief-clad glory and padded into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. Hawke rolled on to her back, clasping her hands behind her head, patiently waiting while he completed his business.

After he came out of the bathroom, she chatted casually with him as he got dressed in his usual black t-shirt and jeans. His replies, as usual, were short and sardonic; she was well-accustomed to carrying the conversational load.

Fenris sat at his desk and turned on his laptop. When he'd made it clear that he had no particular interest in moving out of the mansion, Hawke had pulled some strings to get the utilities in the house turned on. Isabela contributed the questionably-obtained laptop and a short lesson in leeching Wi-Fi from the neighbor and Fenris was set. She didn't know what he did on the extranet but she'd pay good money to see his search history.

Hawke switched to lying on her stomach, facing in the direction of where Fenris sat at his desk. She fiddled restlessly with the rumpled sheets. Casually she offered, "So, my date with the Arishok went well last night."

"Fantastic."

"I, uh, might be going out with him again."

Fenris looked up from his computer, dipping his eyebrows in slight disbelief. "Really?"

Hawke nodded slowly. "Mm-hmm. That's sort of why I came to see you, actually."

"I fail to see the connection."

She sat up, swiveling her legs around so she sat cross-legged.

"You're the only one I know with any real knowledge about the Qunari, Fenris. I want to get to know the Arishok better and I'd like to not make a gigantic ass of myself. At least, not anymore than I already have," she said wryly.

Fenris lounged back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "So… you're coming to me for _dating advice_?"

Hawke scrunched her face up. "Yes?"

"Because when you think of healthy interpersonal relationships, I spring to mind immediately."

Hawke snorted. "I don't think either of us are really aces in that category, love."

She sprang up from the bed and came over to where he was sitting, perching herself on the desk where there was an empty space. She shifted around a bit, fiddling with some papers on his desk—restless maneuvering which didn't escape her friend's notice—before meeting his gaze dead-on.

"I…feel something for him, Fenris. More than I have for anyone I've been with since—"

She dropped her eyes, clamping her lips shut, unwilling to say the name.

Unable to resist Hawke's glum face, Fenris groaned and dragged both palms down his face. "_Venhedis_, Hawke, I don't know how you talk me into these things _every single time_."

A wide smile spread across Hawke's face and she leapt up from the desk to throw her arms around his neck. She released him quickly then said teasingly, "Just think, Fenris, once the Arishok is my boyfriend, we can go on double dates with you and Sebastian."

"That is, without a doubt, the most ridiculous thing you've ever said to me."

"Should I go with Mrs. Marian Arishok or should I hyphenate?"

"Please, PLEASE stop."


End file.
